


Dusty carpet and a downward spiral

by Lamamu



Series: Midam ramblings [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Universe, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Adam Milligan, Pining Michael, Post-Cage, Protective Michael, midam, pining adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamamu/pseuds/Lamamu
Summary: This one is actually just little ramblings from Adam in the days after he bought his dumb old house, and the juggling he was doing to and fro.Some of it is written in a different kind of format to the one I normally use for writing, but I hope it's still readable.I'll tidy it up a bit as I go.As always, I couldn't have Adam without the angst given to him by Michael, and am loving on Michael's writer with my never-ending thanks.





	Dusty carpet and a downward spiral

**Author's Note:**

> The kitten's name Vovina is Enochian for 'Dragon'.. it's something that Adam remembers now and then from his time as Michael's vessel, though he doesn't know what it is. Just odd words now and then.
> 
> Trisha is THAT Trisha, from YouTube.  
> Magnetit is Adam's nickname for Erik, (Magneto) someone he has made friends with who has kind of adopted him as his son.

Today.. today Adam is taking his orange floof back to the new house, and he's going to spend the day ripping up carpet, sneezing and thinking about..

...paint..  
Paint.  
Mic----  
Paint.

"Stupid,  _fucking... ouch!_ "

Wincing as his jeans gets caught on a loose nail under the carpet as he sat down, Adam let out a steady stream of curses.

"Who the fuck uses three inch nails to stick carpet to the floor?"

Grumbly human noises.. for at least the next fifteen minutes.

Adam twisted sideways and felt at the hole in his jeans. Right at the top of his thigh on his ass cheek. His hand came away damp with blood.

"Great."

He grabbed a rag and stuffed it into the hole in his jeans. His favourite pair of jeans. Top doctoring there Adam.

"Like I need the ER nurses looking at my ass."

Or just _that_ one. No, he wasn't going to go there. Not now, not ever. Besides, he had work to do.

Later, with a giant bandaid on his ass and a biting kitten in his lap, Adam popped the lid off a beer bottle and surveyed his handiwork.

Ignoring the fact that he needed a few stitches.

Okay, he'd only managed to do two rooms downstairs and now there was dust everywhere. But!-

There was a pile of rolled up carpet on the lawn.

One more room, he'd order.. not a pizza. Adam couldn't stand the thought of ordering pizza, not since he _remembered._

Thai food. Yeah, that would be way better, and maybe, just maybe he'd be tired enough to sleep later.

 ~~~~~

Oh yeah, he'd been tired enough to sleep, so tired he'd barely made it home before collapsing face first into his bed.

And boy, did he sleep. For about 5 hours anyway. Better than nothing.

But now, coffee in hand, Adam was standing at the front door of his new house again. It was day two. More carpet.

That was the plan, anyway. Get rid of all the carpet and assess the floors, then start sanding archways and windowsills. After that? Well, he wasn't quite sure.

More... fucking dust. More, mouldy carpet, and some strange noises coming from the walls....and didn't he put that chair over by the window?

Weird. Anyway, after calling the kitten and searching for an hour, Adam called it a day. Feisty little shit was probably just hiding in the same bushes she pounced out of when he'd first arrived.

He left a bowl of food out for her, locked up the house and started walking home.

Tomorrow he was going to bring his beat up old car. He was too tired to walk back and forth all the time.

And if he drove, there was more time to work. Less time to think.

~~~~~

Today.. Today Adam couldn't find the kitten, Vovina anywhere after having to leave her behind the night before.

Then Michael turned up with her tiny body cradled in his hands. He'd found her a few doors up.

Adam wasn't sure why the archangel was loitering. Actually, yes he was, Michael had said he was going to be watching... Adam had just told him not to, without actually expecting him to stop.

So, after the archangel had left (almost without a word, gah, why was it so awkward. Why wouldn't he just stay for long enough to see if they even  _could_ talk, after all those revelations.)

Anyway..

He'd buried himself in more carpet removal for a few hours, then headed to the hospital for a shift filled with car accident victims, a few drunk teenagers, a gunshot wound and a pair of rich house wives who had been trampled by an out of control horse and cart in the park by the lake.

Tired, that's what he was, tired and sad and not wanting to think about Michael, and the haunted look in his eyes. The same look he saw when he looked in the mirror.

If only he could see the future.

If only he knew.

Adam skipped dinner again, showered and fell onto his bed wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, knowing he wasn't really going to sleep.

But whatever he got, he'd take.

Even if it meant dreaming of those ocean coloured eyes.

_Trisha.._

Trisha woke him up after he'd only had three hours sleep and didn't let him get anymore.

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. She'd left in a bit of a huff, taking his comforter with her, draped over her paint covered body like a toga.

It wasn't Adam's fault Michael had gotten drunk and decided to visit the mental asylum they'd both been held in by Metatron.. was it?

Yes or no, Adam had sat on his lumpy couch with his head in his hands until his phone had beeped an alarm at him... for hours.

... and he'd gone to work, a look of despair on his face and an ache in his chest that just wouldn't go away.

Later, he'd bumped into a man with a bewildered expression on his face who had no memory of his journey to Wisconsin.

Weird.

Later still, Adam had found himself sanding a windowsill instead of ripping up carpet upstairs.

Going to and fro was starting to get annoying... so he'd thought maybe he'd get one room ready, and he could shove all his crap in it, leaving room for his bed, and live there while he renovated.

Couldn't hurt.

And so, there he was.. fading fast.

Sanding a windowsill at midnight and so fucking tired he didn't know if he had the ability to get home in one piece.

Wow, busy days.. busier, restless nights.

Adam spent the hours between working and (not) sleeping at the new house, sanding paint and timber, hauling rubbish and stripping carpet.

It took him a couple of weeks, four boxes of antihistamines, more coffee than he wanted to count and way too much beer, but eventually the house was empty of debris and dust...

Then, and only then could he _actually_ start cleaning. He had to, or he wouldn't be able to move in. Though he did start with the ones he planned on using first, scrubbing the walls with sugar soap until his arms ached, just to get them to a point where he could stand it.

After, he moved on to the p i n k bathroom, attacking it with bleach and whatever else he could find to get rid of the mould and make it a usable space.

The kitchen he'd kind of already done, since Magnetit had brought him that food over. He'd even bought a little fridge to put in the space, deciding against buying a larger one until he knew what he was doing with his design.

Now, all he had to do was paint a little.

Maybe tomorrow he'd get to the hardware store.

Right now, he just wanted to chill on his back porch with his beer, the bag of potato chips in his lap and the kitten, Vovina.

Sure, he had something to do now to keep his mind off Michael. Not that it was working...

But.. Fuck.. he was lonely.

~~~~~

He had just s t a r e d at the spot on the floor previously occupied by the archangel for a good ten minutes before any kind of reaction hit him. There was a roaring sound in his ears that had nothing to do with any kind of external noise, and everything to do with the raging tempest that was his mind.

The beer bottle had slipped unnoticed out of Adam's grip and hit the floor, tipping sideways and spilling everywhere.

He wouldn't have cared if he'd noticed.

At some point, long after Michael had left, Adam realised his cheeks were damp, and it was dark outside... and he was in the same spot, only he'd sunk to his knees.

....And lost time.

His chest ached, it ached so bad he rubbed his shaking palm against it, knowing it was pointless but doing it anyway. Adam's heart beat an irregular staccato and his breath came in shallow, rapid bursts as he sat there, trying to stop the a c h e that came with the bitter knowledge that he'd finally accepted things for what they were.

....nothing.

It didn't matter what he wanted, or what he thought, or that Michael would answer his prayers now and then.

None of it mattered, because _he. kept. leaving_.. and it wasn't even that Adam didn't understand, he did. He got it.

Better than most.

But he was forced to face facts. Michael wasn't even trying.

It didn't matter what he felt, or thought or didn't say. The only thing that rang through Adam's pain addled mind and punctured his heart was that Michael kept leaving, and it was time to face reality.

It was truly over. It was over before it had even begun, and probably had been since the night Michael had stolen his memories.

_but he said he.._  
  
_no, no. stop doing this to yourself.._

_I can't, I can't give up. I love him._

_You must._

Another hour or more of blank staring passed before Adam managed to haul his miserable self to his feet. It was past time to head home, but he didn't give a toss. Instead, he headed back to the fridge, and the bottle of Jamesons whiskey he'd stashed in there.

Numb, sure. He was.

But Adam was about to make it so he couldn't feel a damn thing.

~~~~~

 And there it was, another day passing in an alcohol and pill induced stupor where Adam didn't have to deal with the storm raging in his mind. It was like a hurricane,... one that never reached land and lost intensity.

All he could think of was how things had come to pass, and how things hadn't changed.

What a lie he'd told himself just to make it through each day, putting one foot in front of the other so that _this_ didn't happen. It never went away, it never, ever got better... even buying the house had only been a quick fix, a band-aid solution to a longing that would never be fulfilled.

He hated it. He hated how he felt, how it was making him act.. what it was making him do. Adam hated h i m s e l f for not being able to hate Michael for what he'd done to him.

Anyone else would tell him he was crazy, that he should move on.. if he'd told anyone. If he'd had anyone that could even remotely understand what he was going through.

Michael hadn't even made him any promises or indicated.. whatever.... this was _all_ on Adam, and how he felt.. and what he remembered.

He was clutching at straws made of wet paper, and he knew it.. now.

His self loathing only got worse.

But he tried.

He woke up early, took some pills to make himself feel somewhat human, sank a few cups of coffee and t r i e d.

In fact, he tried so hard he succeeded in hiring a removalist to take his crap from the apartment to his crappy old house, just so he could wallow in one place and be done with the back and forth.

The hangovers, he ignored by covering it with more pills just so he could function at work... but he knew he wouldn't get away with it for long, and had gotten lucky no major injuries had come in that he couldn't pass off to someone else.

No, his biggest problem at work was the nurse and her insistence that he 'open up', 'talk to her', 'lean on her if he needed it'.

He'd slammed his office door in her face and gone right for the flask he'd stashed in his desk.

_She_ wasn't what he needed, and never would be.

Giving his phone a quick glance, Adam groaned, realising his plans for a quick wipe-out were cancelled. The removalists were done.. and now he had to clean.

Once his shift was done, he went to his old apartment to grab Vovina and gave it a cursory once over with his vacuum cleaner and a bottle of spray cleaner. That done, he tossed the keys to the manager, gave her his new address for his mail and left, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone.

The building had been his home for five years.. and Adam left without a word, retreating to his new place for the solitude he yearned for... now that his dream of a life with Michael was shattered.

Adam didn't even start to unpack.. He just fed the kitten, made sure the doors were locked and fell down, face first on his unmade bed. The blonde knew he should get up and at least put his bed together before he fell asleep, but he was so tired.

So drained, emotionally, physically. Mentally... he just couldn't summon the energy or the desire to move for long enough to grab his tools to screw bits of timber to metal and find some clean sheets.

All he managed was to dig out a blanket (not his comforter, Trisha s t i l l hadn't brought it back), roll himself into a burrito and just... stare.

He was here, in the house Michael had helped him to buy, to get him on his feet.. to make him do _g r e a t_ things.

Adam should have been happy, this night should have never been spent alone with just him and a kitten who wouldn't stop attacking his feet through the holes in the crochet blanket.

It _should_ have been spent with him. That had been what he was hoping for, that Michael would have come to see. That maybe they'd have just.. talked.

But no, before that could happen, the archangel had dipped out on the simplest thing.. ghosting him like an bad tinder date.. and Adam was perpetually alone flat out refusing to pray, to beg Michael to come back again.

So far so good right?

Being eaten alive didn't hurt like this did.

This night.. sleep wasn't going to come.

~~~~~

So far so good.. again.

Adam made it through his shift without sneaking back to his office to find his little flask of Vodka.

Yeah, he'd switched it up because the scent of whiskey was too strong and he'd had to cover up one time too many, blaming it on close proximity with a patient, or rubbing alcohol or something. It was instant dismissal to be caught drinking on the job, and Adam wasn't t h a t stupid. Yet.

Once his shift was over, he'd gone home to sort his stuff. The first thing he did was make his bed, days had passed and he'd still been sleeping wrapped in the blue crochet thing a patient had given him.

Not anymore. Now, as the blonde screwed his bed together and dug out a clean set of sheets, he admitted to himself that he was okay.

He felt good... kinda normal. And so the feeling remained for the next few hours as he shifted boxes, pulling things around so he could finally start to paint, though he wasn't bothering with the room he was in anymore.

No.

That moment had passed, and now that he'd moved in it was filled with boxes and everything else he owned that would fit.

Everything else was in the centre of the living room, and that was where he was going to start.. at least so he could stand to be in there.

As the hours passed and Adam painted, the brush strokes soothed him into an even calmer frame of mind. He even dug out his bluetooth speakers and let one of his Spotify playlists run supreme, humming along with some of his favourites as they came on one after the other.

All in all, it was a good night.

He even managed to e a t, ordering Indian food to fill the hole in his starved stomach.

Yes,... everything was just fine.

Adam was smiling when he set down the rolling brush, though he was bone tired. His eyes roamed over the walls he'd painted and he felt satisfied by his efforts.. finally something had worked. Something had diverted his mind from the anguish inside.

That is.. until his blue eyes fell on the opened moving box that had /that/ box sitting on the top of it.

Yeah, the one Michael had given him.

The one that had held the money that had allowed him to buy this house in the first place.

The one that had the still unopened snacks in it.

Yeah, that one.

Oh..no..


End file.
